


Fidelity, Bravery, Integrity

by thelifehypothesis



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-06-06 05:54:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15188252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelifehypothesis/pseuds/thelifehypothesis
Summary: The FBI fic not a single soul asked for - Darcy Lewis is an FBI agent extraordinaire.





	1. Chapter 1

“You know that guy Lewis?”

Darcy looks up briefly from the case file in front of her and scans the room. There's a substantial amount of people littering about the Friday before a long weekend, but that's not surprising. FBI agents are renowned for being a little intense and largely anal retentive. 

“What guy?”

“The one staring a hole into the back of your head.”

Darcy looks over her shoulder to check out what the hell Sam is talking about. She doesn’t see anyone at first, but it doesn’t take very long to figure out who he's talking about. The man in question is standing in Fury’s office talking to him, but staring directly at her. 

It catches her by surprise. He was the last person she expected to see. And at FBI headquarters of all places. And, man, it feels like one hell of a sucker punch to the gut.

He’s leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed as he talks. He doesn't really look like what she remembers of him. His hair is cut short now, the perma-stuble on his chin long gone, and he’s in a crisp blue suit. Hot hobo days are long gone she supposes.

Darcy watches him slowly unbutton his jacket and lay it beside him. He moves gracefully, but it's methodical. He's drawing attention to the long lines of his body, his solid frame, the sinewed shape of his arms as he rolls up the sleeves of his pressed white shirt. He doesn't move his eyes away as he leans back further crossing one ankle over the other, looking incredibly relaxed, powerful even.

And he’s doing it on purpose.

Darcy almost rolls her eyes at the tactic. Predictable. But it’s been two years since they last saw each other, and if Bucky Barnes thinks it’s going to work on her, again, he’s got another thing coming.

Darcy breaks eye contact and focuses on his mouth. She can barely make out the words ‘counterintelligence’ and ‘cartel’ before Director Fury switches his stance, effectively blocking Bucky from her eyeline.

Darcy turns around and examines the file in front of her again.

“Yeah. That’s Bucky Barnes.”

Wilson’s eyebrows go up at that. “No kidding.” He takes a long noisy drag of his coffee before continuing. “So what do you think the CIA is doing here?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

Sam shoots her an unimpressed glare over the rim of his mug.

“Rogers was working a case in Brooklyn and found some intel on a Columbian cartel. I’m guessing probably something to do with that.”

“Huh,” Sam remarks, but he doesn’t continue. He just waits and is absurdly quiet.

Most people that know Sam know the man doesn't know when to shut up. So the silence that follows him is, for a lack of a better word, hella creepy. And don't get her wrong, Darcy has been in some pretty hairy situations in her years with the Bureau, but a quiet Sam Wilson might be the most unsettling thing that she has ever experienced. She chooses to ignore it because she knows he’s got more questions, and a pretty good hunch she wants to answer exactly zero of them.

Ignoring Sam though is making her weirdly itchy and she lasts all of 30 seconds before she gives in.

“What is it Wilson?” Darcy asks without looking up from the file.

“For a guy here about cartel intelligence, he seems pretty damn interested in you.”

Darcy slams the file shut and hands it back to him, pointedly ignoring the probing comment.

“I’ve got a guy down in the village who owes me a favour. Name’s Marty and he works the hot dog cart on the south-east corner of Washington Square Park. Tell him Lewis sent you and you need him to pull this off by the end of the day. If he tells you it’ll take three, tell him you know he did it in five hours for Stacey and Mr. Pudding.”

Sam scrunches his nose at that, but doesn’t say anything, and Darcy can’t help the smirk on her face.

Sam doesn’t get up off his chair though. He just continues to take obnoxiously loud pulls of his coffee.

Darcy sighs deeply, “This. This is what you’re using for interrogation? Irritating me to death?”

Sam smiles, “Whatever works.”

“Pretty sure they didn’t teach you that at Quantico.”

“Nah, learned it from my niece. It’s surprisingly effective.”

“I can see that,” Darcy pauses.

Darcy likes Sam. He's been a good friend since she started in Cyber two years ago and he's pretty much the only one in the department who doesn't permanently carry a stick up their ass for America. So, because they are friends, and despite his penchant for driving her a little batty, she says, “We were in the same class. Graduated together about three years ago. We were both assigned to counterterrorism for about a year until he got recruited by the CIA and I transferred to Cyber. Not much to tell.”

“I highly doubt that,” Sam says as he starts to get up. “But, I know when the tap runneth dry and you’re not gonna give me anymore today.”

"And they say you learn nothing at secret agent school!" Darcy volleys.

Sam pauses for a beat and Darcy starts to cringe at the words about to come out of his mouth. “It comes with being the best agent the Bureau has seen in the last 30 years.” 

It's a running joke between everyone in Cyber. Coulson was clearly talking about Steve Rogers, America's golden boy, but Sam walked in at the perfect time during Coulson's mini speech, and now insists that Phil was talking about him.

Darcy grabs a tennis ball from her desk and chucks it at his receding back. “Don’t let Coulson hear you say it. He might actually get a plaque made for Rogers that says exactly that.”

Sam just waves a middle finger in the air as he disappears around the corner.

Darcy sits heavily into her chair before glancing quickly back in the direction of Fury’s office. The blinds are closed now, but knowing that only a few feet and a brick wall separate her from Bucky is going to make it impossible to focus on anything else.

 

It’s almost an hour later when Darcy eyes Steve making his way into the building and heading for Fury’s office. It confirms her suspicions. Columbian cartel deal. Winner winner.

Steve’s eyes search the room for a minute and land on hers. He’s looking at her like a kicked puppy even though he probably doesn’t mean to. She raises a shoulder at him. It isn’t the best news in the world that Bucky Barnes has some how slid back into the periphery of her life, but she isn’t exactly going to hold that against him.

When Darcy watches Steve enter Fury’s office, she can’t see Bucky anymore through the small opening of the door. In his place stands a redheaded woman, lithe like a dancer, but predatory in her stance. She’s drumming her fingers against her other arm, listening intently to someone in the room speak. 

Just as the door begins to close, the red head is suddenly looking up at her. Her gaze is a little perfunctory to begin with, but it slowly turns into something more calculating.

Yeah, Darcy thinks, she wants nothing to do with Bucky Barnes, and now, she wants absolutely nothing to do with whatever is going on in that room.


	2. Chapter 2

It's the third time Darcy’s looked up at the damn clock in an hour. Ten more minutes and she’s in the clear. She can punch out for the weekend and skirt the whole running into Bucky thing entirely.

And she’s got a contingency plan. It isn’t exactly stellar and Darcy isn’t necessarily proud of it either, but, whatever, she’s an agent, contingency plans are part of her genetic make-up at this point.

And really what’s the big deal if the plan is to hide in the washroom till he leaves? No glory in the process she tells herself. It’s practically the FBI motto right? If it’s not already then it definitely should be. The _things_ she’s had to do for this place.

Darcy’s packing up her things when she sees Sam walking towards her, a tablet in his hand.

“Hey, I thought you would have left for the cottage already. Traffic’s gonna be a bitch,” she says.

“Yeah, looks like my vacation is cancelled and I’m gonna guess in about two minutes yours will be too,” Sam says as he checks his watch.

Darcy rubs her forehead, “What now?”

“Oh you’re really gonna love this.” He’s smiling with his eyes and his stupid face like he knows something she doesn’t.

Darcy doesn’t like it. Not one bit.

The phone on Darcy’s desk starts ringing like a bad omen and Sam picks it up before she has the chance.

“Wilson,” Sam answers and then continues, “She’s right here. Yes sir. I’ll do that. 30 seconds.”

Darcy squints at Sam as he talks. When he hangs up the phone he gestures with his head to the office behind her, as if to lead the way.

Darcy’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “No.”

“Yup.”

“No. No. No.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You’re lying.”

“Now, why would I lie? This’ll be so much fun. Two old friends reconnecting. And me in the middle of it all.” He’s rubbing his hands together like a psycho and Darcy almost tells him as much. She would too, if her mind wasn’t so preoccupied with sheer panic.

Darcy’s mind is basically blank. Not completely blank of course, the word fuck is playing in her head over and over again to the tune of Somewhere Over the Rainbow.

Darcy knows she’s supposed to be moving, 30 seconds fuck fuck fuck, but she just can’t. She’s rooted. Why her? Literally, there are at least three other agents in this room right now that can do exactly what she does.

Her brain is scrambling for purchase and then just as abruptly as the panic sunk in, everything makes crystal clear sense.

Her spine stiffens as she figures out what’s going on here. _Barnes._ This is his doing. She knows it deep in her bones with absolute certainty. And it is riling her up. Well, two can play this game. She’s going to find a way to pawn off this case because the only way she’s working with him again is over her cold dead body.

But Darcy’s still not moving, so Sam grabs her upper arm and sort of half-drags her along to Fury’s office door. Sam stops right before he opens it though.

“You good?” he asks.

She takes the deep breath and tugs her blazer back into place.

“Darce?” Sam asks, when she doesn't say anything. Darcy just nods.

 

When the door opens, Darcy sees Fury leaning heavily over his desk talking to Steve. She angles herself purposefully so that her back is toward the intruders. If she’s lucky she might even get out of the room without looking at his face, which she’s sure has a stupid smug grin plastered over it.

“Wilson. Lewis. You’re on Rogers’ case now.”

Darcy knows she has to strike fast with Fury. Darcy clears her throat, “Sir Co-Director Hill has me working the Jeremy D’Urso case…” but her plea is cut short by Fury’s snort.

“Lewis I don’t have the time for you to ride my ass about this today. You want that promotion out of Cyber? Bring in Rogers’ cartel and I’ll give it you.”

Darcy wants to reply but her mouth is stuck in an ‘o’ and she doesn’t really know what to say to that. And that’s new because most people don’t know how to shut her up, like ever. But Fury is clearly playing hardball today.

“Sir, with all due respect…” Sam tries to jump in. And Darcy really loves him for that, she does. As much as Sam likes to chirp her, he’s a good dude that wouldn’t let her unduly suffer for a promotion she rightly deserves. She’s gonna bake him the biggest double chocolate fudge cake as soon as she gets home.

“You too Wilson. Nothing would make me happier than making the two of you someone else’s headache.” Sam shuts up at that.

If Darcy wasn’t screwed before, she certainly is now. Both of them promoted out of Cyber is like a weird dream come true. The number of nights they’ve bitched to Rogers about getting the hell out of Dodge over a case of beers and an extra-large extra-cheese extra-pepperoni pizza is literally too many to count.

Darcy’s eyes flick in the direction of Steve and he’s full out grinning. That irritatingly lovable jerk.

She then looks over at Sam.

“What?” Fury says, “You two are practically attached at the hip. The faster I can get rid of both of you the better. So, if you don’t have any more objections, I’m reassigning you. Let’s get this fucking show on the road.”

Sam nudges her hard in the side. He can’t help himself. He’s been waiting for this promotion for way longer than she has and he’s damn pleased with himself. Darcy thinks she sees Bucky shift his weight a little awkwardly in her periphery, but she’s determined to ignore him as long as humanly possible.

Fury addresses Steve, “You’re going to have to go back in. Your position hasn’t been compromised and I want to keep it that way,” his eyes, um, eye, glancing at Sam and Darcy as he speaks.

“Wilson I’ll need you in the field with Rogers for recon…” Fury starts, and Darcy’s shares a wide-eyed look with Sam as he continues, “and Lewis you’re going to be working with Agents Barnes and Romanoff here to make sure the CIA doesn’t cost me my agents or this case.”

Fury’s got a scowl on his face as if daring the two silent figures behind her to speak.

“Update me by the end of week.” The ‘dismissed’ doesn’t need to be voiced.

 

Darcy walks out of the office first trying to keep as much space between her and Barnes as humanly possible. The rest of them follow her as she makes her way over to the conference spaces down the hall.

When they enter the entirely too-small room, Steve, Sam, and Agent Romanoff all sit down, with Steve at the head of the table and Natasha directly across from him. Darcy wants to smile at that. Looks likes Barnes isn’t the only one making some clear power plays, but something tells her that Agent Romanoff has no time for that kind of bullshit because she looks relaxed as can be. Too relaxed. Like she might as well be in a bikini drinking Mai Tais.

When she’s stopped contemplating how Romanoff can look so eerily calm, Darcy looks around and realizes the position she’s in. If she sits down she’s stuck sitting next to Barnes. The glare Darcy shoots Steve and Sam is automatic and at least Steve has the decency to look contrite about the whole thing.

She eyes the chair and then says, “I’ll stand”. Darcy props herself against one of the window ledges instead.

It’s only then that Barnes finally says something. And because the big man upstairs hates her, he starts talking to her.

“Come on Lewis. I know it’s been a while, but I don’t bite,” he says sauntering shamelessly over to what would have been her seat and pulling the chair out for her.

“Nah, don’t feel like getting charged with a felony today. Thanks though,” Darcy says, as she picks at her nails. She’s trying to go for nonchalance, but she thinks she misses the mark when he laughs.

Steve clears his throat, his attempt at trying to break the tension and possibly stop WWIII, “Ah, so why don’t we get started with briefing Agents Lewis and Wilson and then we can talk about reconnaissance.”

Sam and Romanoff pull out their respective tablets at that and start listening intently as Steve goes over the details of the case. Bucky, after a moment, finally peels his gaze away from her and opens up a manila folder he’d been holding and starts flipping through some papers.

Darcy sighs and pulls open her own tablet at that. As she waits for her file to load, she eyes all the good little FBI agents milling about outside, getting ready to spend the weekend anywhere but here. Lucky bastards. Trapped in a tin can with Bucky Barnes for an indefinite amount of time was not how she planned on spending her weekend.

Darcy looks at Bucky one more time as he continues to look over the file in front of him. She was kind of joking earlier about the felony thing, but now as she glances over at him, she thinks she really should keep a lawyer on retainer. Just in case.


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy’s actually quite surprised she is managing to juggle nearly two hundred dollars worth of food by herself. 

She could make this a lot easier on herself by hurrying the hell up, but the walk from the front desk back to literal hell is longest reprieve she’s had in hours and she’s going to make the most of it.

When she walks by one of the large white clocks in the building, the ones that remind her of clocks in an elementary school classroom, she has to resist the urge to groan out loud. Darcy’s had a lot of midnights in the last couple years, and a lot of them with Sam, working away on one case or the other. Working into the early hours of the morning is old hat at this point, but whatever little stamina she had today went into pretending like Barnes wasn’t even in the room.

It should have been easy, but it’s been downright exhausting. Just his voice makes the hair on her neck stand up in attention, and what’s worse is it’s completely automatic. Darcy’s brain might try to keep him pixelated and obscure, but despite it, her body, the traitor, is hyper-attuned to his irritating presence.

When she walks back in the room Sam is still arguing with Bucky about how to get the location for the next shipment from one of the cartel’s lieutenants. 

“Rogers approaching a known cartel leader directly is the worst idea I’ve ever heard of. It’ll get Steve killed.” Sam really isn’t one to ever get angry. He just sounds about as exhausted as she feels.

“Everything we have on him suggests he wants out of the game. All Rogers has to do is make it known that he has some connections with the Feds and that he can get him a …” 

Bucky doesn’t get to finish that thought.

“There isn’t a judge in the country that’s gonna say yes to that. They guy has a rap sheet longer than anyone the Bureau’s been able to bring in for at least the last decade.” Sam says as he bounces a tennis ball off the far wall.

Darcy places the food down as Steve clears a few files off the table for her. 

“Even if you did, you can’t guarantee that the guy will take the deal,” Darcy says handing Romanoff one of her double bacon cheeseburgers.

“But we’ve got no other moves to make Darce. He’s got the information we need to stop the shipment and we don’t have any other way of getting it.” 

Darcy’s in shock because Steve hasn’t really weighed in on the situation quite yet. He always likes to take his time and when he does, he’s usually got the most patriotic morally correct answer ever. So the fact that _those_ words came out of _his_ mouth has left her stunned.

She turns to look at Sam because what. the. fuck. 

Sam’s not shocked though. He’s rolling his eyes at the idiocy of the whole thing.

Darcy tries for a different approach. “Okay buddy,” she says to him as if he were a deranged animal. “Look you’re tired, you’re hungry. You’re not thinking straight. Here eat this,” Darcy says as she shoves his spaghetti bolognese in front of him. She looks down at her own meal and shoves her large fries towards him. “Take these too. You need it more than me.”

Steve closes his eyes and huffs out loud. 

Romanoff who has been chewing quietly this whole time and has nearly finished her burger finally puts the last bite down. 

“Lewis is right. That’s a big gamble.”

Barnes is looking at her with pure shock and Darcy can’t help it, she's positively preening at that. Natasha is a woman of a few words. Like Steve, she’s left the bickering to Sam and Bucky, with some few zingers by Darcy. She’s said relatively little, but when she has, the words have been quick, precise, and non-negotiable. 

“We’ve got another play,” Natasha starts and then pauses looking at Barnes for something, but Darcy isn’t quite sure what that’s about.

There’s this weird moment passing between them. Natasha’s pinning him down with steely eyes and Bucky, well if looks could kill, they would totally hit their mark. 

“That’s not an option,” Bucky says with finality.

Steve, Sam, and Darcy are exchanging looks, deer in headlights. 

Like hell if they aren’t going to be equal partners in this.

“So, listen I know you CIA folk have a hard time playing nice with others, but usually you tell your friends things that could save a man’s life,” Sam says. 

He’s met with silence. 

“You know the same friends that are on your side and trying to help you out?” Sam pipes in when the silence starts to get uncomfortable.

“Buck…” Steve says. 

“Trust me on this Steve. You’re not gonna like this.” 

The Steve Darcy knows, her friend, her colleague, one of her most trusted confidants, would question this. But that’s not the Steve in front of her. The one she sees now is the one that has had Bucky Barnes’ side since they were in diapers. No matter what has happened in the past three years, some things never change.

“Hey!” Darcy says finally getting irked at the boys’ club bullshit in front of her. “I’m not putting up with your shit Barnes. Spill it.”

But he doesn’t. Typical.

“We hack them,” Natasha says for him instead.

“Wait, I’m confused. That’s an option? Why didn’t someone tell me that’s an option. Let’s fucking hack them.” Darcy throws up her hands in the air. 

Seriously? Seriously! Why have they been in this room for hours when all she needs is her computer and steady IV drip of caffeine. 

“Because you can’t access it remotely.”  

Darcy looks up at the sound of Bucky’s voice.

“So, we have to hardwire in?” 

“Yeah.” Bucky replies. 

“So, you’re thinking we don’t have time to get another person vetted in to infiltrate?” 

Bucky doesn’t answer her right away. It allows Darcy to register that her heart is hammering in her chest from having to actually exchange more than a sentence with him.

“More like we don’t have anyone with the kind of field and tech expertise at all. Steve can’t learn that kind of code in that time even with his photographic memory.”

Sam’s the one who clues in first and Darcy can tell because he’s got his hands on his hips, his head hung low, and shaking with frustration. She usually only sees this when Steve’s come up with some outrageous plan.

Okay, Darcy’s seriously confused right now and Steve is giving Barnes the “America’s disappointed in you” look. And Bucky, god help him, is actually shrinking under the weight of it.

Darcy blames the lack of sleep, the fact that she’s still a little hungry post-dinner, and the extreme effort it has taken to not be affected by Bucky Barnes, that it takes her as long as it does to put the pieces together.

“How many times did you already try to hack in?” Darcy asks. She’s feeling a bit disappointed to be honest and she doesn’t know why. The fact that Barnes has managed to get his way while keeping her in the dark should really stop being so surprising at this point. 

“Our guys couldn’t find a way in without tripping some sort of an alerting system.” Natasha supplies. 

“Let me see the specs,” Darcy says putting her hand out for the folder Barnes had been flipping through when he got here.

“It’s Fort Knox Darce,” he says as he runs his hands through his hair.

Darcy’s shoulders tense at his words. Her name sounding too familiar and sweet from his lips.

“You didn’t have what you needed at the CIA so you came to the FBI. How the tables have turned Barnes,” Darcy jabs and it hits the mark. Bucky’s eyes snap up to hers. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say she saw a hint of regret there. She knows better though. 

“It was my idea,” Natasha cuts in. “We obviously decided to explore other options, but as Rogers said, we’ve got no other moves.”

“You know I can do this right?” Darcy asks, but she’s resigned. It’s the safer option than playing their wild card with the lieutenant. 

“I hoped so,” Natasha replies. 

“No.” Bucky’s voice is void of reverberation in the room, as though the air has been sucked right out of it. “You don’t have the field experience to go in.”

“So we’re going to just ignore my time in counter-terrorism?” Darcy bites back.

“That was two years ago and you’ve been behind a desk ever since.” 

“Who’s fault is that exactly?”

“You’re the one that asked for Cyber. Don’t put that on me.” 

“And why did I have to do that Barnes? Are you really just going to pick and choose what you remember about…”

“Uh guys…” Steve interrupts.

Sam’s giving him an incredulous look. “Really! You couldn’t just give them like two more minutes? We were just getting to the good stuff.”

Darcy feels her cheeks heat up at that. Barnes was trying to rile her up, trying to show she couldn’t be trusted in the field and she was playing right into it. Darcy grabs her blazer off the back of the chair and tugs it on.

“Agent Barnes, you have an agent who is capable of obtaining pertinent details for a case and who is capable of doing so without revealing and endangering another fellow agent. To do anything else would be reckless and call into question your ability to do this job without bias,” Darcy says.

She could stop there because she’s made her point and now, everyone in the room knows that putting Darcy in play really is the only option, regardless of their personal feelings about it. She grabs her things because she is so _done_ for tonight. 

But she can’t stop there. She’s got a flare for the dramatic. Sue her.

She flips up her middle finger behind her as she walks out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's unedited but have it anyway. I love you. Tell me your thoughts because I liveeeeee for reader theories.


	4. Chapter 4

She’s pissed. Truth be told, she’s fucking livid. So when Sam shows up at the door of her apartment the next morning, she’s still banging cupboards and bedroom doors with a little more force than is absolutely necessary.

When she opens the door for him, his eyes are wide and he looks a little apprehensive.

“So, I take it you’re still mad,” Sam says dropping the box of doughnuts on the living room table and laying down on her couch.

Darcy recognizes the box. He went to Shaw’s. Fucking Shaw’s. All the way in Brooklyn. It’s how Sam cheers her up when she’s having a shit time without making it seem like a big deal. Darcy’s shoulders melt a little bit at the gesture.

“I’m not mad. Why would I be mad? I’m like, _fine_.” 

Sam’s eyes track the doughnut crumbs raining down from Darcy’s mouth. “Oh yeah, you look fine.”

“What? I’m a voracious doughnut eater. Especially if it’s Shaw’s.” Darcy’s hands are gesturing maybe a little too wildly in the air, but she’s trying to make a point.

Sam makes a noncommittal noise before continuing, “Right. Since you’re so fine, we should probably talk about how we’re going to contain this situation.”

“What situation?” Darcy asks eyeing up the particularly squishy-looking jelly-filled doughnut Sam’s holding.

Normally, he would stuff the whole thing in his mouth if he saw the way she was eye-banging the doughnut right now, but it speaks volumes when he hands it over, resignation colouring his face.

Darcy would profess her love for the man if she thought he’d be able to hear it without letting his ego grow three sizes, so she settles for giving him the toothiest grin she can muster. 

“This situation where we’ve got to put you in the field and pull you out of the field without one of the largest cartels in the world being none the wiser. Also you and Barnes.”

“There’s no me and Barnes. And I’ve already figured it out,” Darcy says using her toe to point at the computer and the notes scattered around the table.

Sam looks at Darcy in disbelief.

“Let me get this straight. It took you,” Sam says looking down at the watch on his wrist before continuing, “seven hours to figure out a way in. Something that the CIA couldn’t figure out in five months.” He’s scanning the chicken scratch and print outs in front of him and his eyebrows raise incrementally. 

Darcy just shrugs a shoulder while downing the last of her coffee. “I have a Ph.D you know.”

Sam snorts and Darcy rolls her eyes. 

“What time did Peter leave?”

“Hey! I resent that you don’t think I could do this by myself.”

“No. I definitely think you could do this by yourself. I don’t think you could do this in _seven_ hours by yourself. Twelve to fifteen hours on the other hand? Yeah, I’d buy that.”

Sam makes a fair point so Darcy succeeds.

“You missed him by like ten minutes,” she says as she puts the large box with the single caramel doughnut in the fridge. She doesn’t even know why she’s saving it for the kid. There’s a Shaw’s literally in Stark Tower and he can get these any time he wants.

“It’s his internship day at Stark right?” Sam says, eyes still going over code as though he knows what it all means. He knows the basics though so it’s not surprising when he follows up his rhetorical question with, “This is just a Trojan.”

“Hey!” Darcy yells, her brows furrowed in offence.

Sam holds up his hands in the universal “I come in peace” gesture.

“Dude. That’s a master class in Trojans. Nay! It is the Clydesdale of Trojans.”

Sam looks doubtful as Darcy plops down beside him, sending up a small cloud of (probably) Cheeto dust.

Darcy exhales loudly through her nose. “Yeah it’s a Trojan. I was looking over the shit Barnes was sitting on last night. The reason the CIA couldn’t figure out how to break in is because the cartel is using old Stark Tech and that shit runs on completely different source code.” 

Sam closes his eyes and nods sagely as though he saw this coming all along. It makes the corner of Darcy’s mouth tick upward.

“It’s so freaking old that…” Darcy eyes widen for dramatic effect.

“Old like the time that bald dude from Stark Industries tried to like take over the world?” Sam interjects.

“Exactly. It doesn’t even look like the code he uses now, which even if the CIA could get their hands on…”  
  
“Which they can’t,” Sam supplements.

“Which they can’t,” Darcy confirms, “it would take them months just to figure out how to write their way in.”

“So, Peter.”

Darcy wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Kid owes me one.”

“So backdoor. Trojan. Then we’re good,” Sam shortens. “How long is it going to take?”

“Thirty minutes erring on the side of caution.”

“So Steve can…” Sam starts, but she tunes him out.

Darcy doesn’t blame him exactly. She knows Sam doesn’t love the idea of her in the field even if he knows she’s perfectly capable of it. Darcy has Peter to think of. And if she’s going to be honest, she doesn’t always think clearly when Barnes is around. 

“Steve can’t. It has to be me.”

“Darcy _May_ Lewis you have nothing to prove here.”

Darcy cringes.

“Don’t use my full name and it isn’t about proving anything. If something needs to be re-written on the fly Steve can’t do it and chances of him getting caught elevate drastically.”

Sam’s rubbing both hands over his face tugging the skin up and down. Both hands. It’s a tell and she knows she’s won the argument.

“We need a plan or Barnes and Romanov are just going to take over this show. We need Steve.”

“He _is_ the man with the plan after all!” Darcy offers smugly.

Sam’s aim is great. So the pillow he throws quickly at her, hits her precisely on the nose.

“Stop calling Steve that.” 

“Stop calling me what?” Steve says. 

Steve has let herself into the apartment and is, courteous as ever, wiping his shoes on her mat before he makes it past her front door. He’s also shaking off his umbrella and propping it by the front door. Absently, Darcy wonders if Peter was soaked on his way into the city. She fires him off a quick text and tells him to take a cab instead of the bike home tonight. 

“Nothing. Darcy is just being a pain” Sam says.

“So status quo?” Steve replies as he shoots her a quick smirk.

“You’re both assholes you know that right?” Darcy asks as she tucks her phone back into her back pocket.

“I thought you had a meeting with Fury this morning,” Sam says as he makes room on the couch for Steve.

“Not until later and I figured when you weren’t in bed this morning you were probably over here making plans without me.”

Darcy’s smile spreads slowly across her face and she has no doubt she looks a little, or may be a lot, like the Cheshire cat right now, at the choice of Steve’s words.

Steve’s looking at Sam so she takes the opportunity to mouth _sexual plans_ and gesture lewdly from a position where Sam can see everything and Steve can’t see anything. 

Darcy’s been trying to convince the two knuckleheads to get together for what feels like ages, but to no avail. They just keep shooting each other thirsty longing looks and do nothing about it. It makes Darcy want to bang her head against a wall. Or, better yet, theirs into each other.

Steve turns around unexpectedly and Darcy stuffs her hands into her front pockets and smiles at him innocently.

Steve’s bullshit detector is great so he’s giving her a look that’s ten percent suspicion and ninety percent “America is amused, but disappointed in you”. He’s really fucking good at it because it forces Darcy to get back to business.

“So did you two brainiacs manage to come up with something or….” Steve trails off.

“Hey, I created a Trojan.”

“I brought doughnuts?” 

Steve just smiles affectionately at Sam and opens up the file he brought with him and starts using his official ‘debriefing’ voice, which makes Darcy chuckle. Because come on, _debriefing._ She catches Sam’s eye and knows he’s thinking the same thing when he starts smirking at her reluctantly. 

Anyway, Steve’s moniker proves to be right because the dude definitely came equipped with a plan. And what a plan it was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update finalllyyyyy.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy’s exhausted - the kind of bone deep exhaustion that came from tossing and turning every hour of the night.

She flips the covers off her body and turns toward the angry glare of red light shining an ungodly hour of the morning. Like so incredibly early that most sane people still consider it a reasonable time to go to bed. 

It occurs to Darcy that somehow Barnes has managed not only to desecrate her workdays, but her weekends too. Normally, Sundays mean not getting out of bed till noon, hitting up whatever weird sci-fi zombie flick was playing at the Roxy with Peter, and drinking a ten dollar bottle of primo wine from the bodega down the street. Sundays are her favourite day of the week.

Sundays are sacred.

Sundays are her days with Peter for, well, for Pete’s sake. Her days where she does her damnedest to make sure that Peter feels as close to Richy and Mary as possible. Darcy has a lifetime’s worth of memories of her brother. She shares as many good memories as she has of Rich as she can remember with Pete. She doesn’t think Peter will forget them, not exactly, but she knows all-too-well how memories fade and dim with time. She doesn’t want that for him. She wants Peter to remember Rich, the vibrant and vivid man that he was, in all his glory.

This Sunday was going to be different though and it made her want to hit Barnes in his all-too-perfect face with a shovel. Steve was going to let Barnes and Romanoff in on the plan he cooked up. He tried giving her an out, telling her she didn’t need to be there and she could spend the day with Peter, but Darcy turned him down. Who else would make sure Barnes kept his toe in line?

There was no way on earth or fucking Valhalla that James Barnes was going to run the show and get what he wants. Not again. History was not going to repeat itself. 

Darcy finally gives up and decides to get a moving on her day. She wasn’t sleeping tonight and laying in bed only makes her think of Barnes, or Rich, or not having her day with Peter, and all of those things just piss her off even more. 

By the time Darcy looks over the code again for the Trojan, gets a couple loads of laundry done, and makes her famous pancakes for when Peter wakes up it’s already time to leave.

It occurs to Darcy that the only good thing about working on a Sunday is that the commute on a long weekend is bliss. She even stops at the Shaw’s in Stark Tower. She knows that Steve and Sam will appreciate the gesture. 

Or…not. When she enters the Bureau and places the box on Sam’s desk he’s looking at her like she is his own personal saviour and simultaneously straight from the pits of hell.

“Aw no! Come on Lewis. You know I’m trying to watch my figure these days,” he says patting non-existent belly.

“You literally brought these to my house like two days ago.” Darcy opens the box and helps herself to the squishiest chocaolate one she can find.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I got to have any. You were all grabby hands and scary.”

Darcy rolls her eyes and asks if Steve is in. 

Sam tells her that he’s been holed up in his office all weekend trying to iron out the kinks in his plan.

Darcy frowns.

Sam puts down his doughnut, the one he swore he wasn’t going to eat. Darcy figures that her face gave away what she was thinking.

“This isn’t about your competence in the field. He knows you’re a capable field agent.”

“But…” Darcy starts for him.

“But,” Sam sighs and leans forward resting his forearms on his knees, “Rich wasn’t just a colleague to him. He was a good friend. He can’t have Peter lose more family to this job. Not under his watch.”

“I don’t want to be treated with kid gloves on this Sam. I’ve done more than enough to earn the respect he’d give any other agent on this job.”

“You talking about Barnes?” 

Darcy’s eyes snap up to meet Sam’s. She runs hand through her hair and tugs it down in place. 

“Because you and I both know that after me,” Sam pauses because Darcy’s snorting at that, “that after me, you are the person he respects the most around here.”

Darcy sighs aloud. “Barnes isn’t going to just roll over and let Steve have his way on this.”

“He can bitch about it all he wants, but it’s happening with or without him. Besides Romanoff already gave the go-ahead.”

Darcy’s eyes widen at that. “No kidding.”

Sam’s face is as smug as smug can be. “Plan was basically half hers.”

Darcy’s a bit impressed to be honest. It never occurred to her that Steve would hide something like this from Bucky. How very CIA of him.

“Twenty says Barnes storms out.”

Sam pulls out a twenty out of his wallet. “I’ll take that action.”

 

An hour later, Darcy, who is exactly twenty dollars richer, is walking into a conference room with Steve and Sam. She pauses for a second at the door when she sees Barnes sulking against a wall. She didn’t think he’d be back this soon.

It’s painfully silent in the room. In fact, it’s the loudest silence she’s ever heard in her life. And Darcy was once subject to Nick Fury’s eye of judgement for a whole 3 minutes. So the silence is telling. 

When Natasha finally joins them, she’s just off a call. “Okay, we’re a-go. We’ll back your play Rogers.”

Steve rubs his temple as though he can already foresee the caveats. “But…” he begins for her.

“But we get one of ours in the action too.”

“I don’t think that’s smart,” Sam jumps in. “Darcy is already going to be one new face. You want to get two vetted in? They’ll get caught off the hop.”

“Darcy is going under cover as cleaning staff. They’ll hardly pay any attention to her.”

“Who were you thinking?” Steve asked.

“Me.” 

Darcy wishes the earth would just swallow her whole.

“No freaking way,” Sam says with an obnoxiously wide smile. All eyes in the room stare daggers at him and he holds up his hands in a placating gesture. 

“And Barnes over here is going to do what exactly?” Darcy asks, her voice a bit more shrill than she intended. 

“Back up,” Barnes offers breezily. 

“I swear to fucking Thor,” Darcy curses as she rounds on him, “you wanna take this outside pal? I can still kick your ass nine ways to Sunday.”

“That was one time at Quantico. You can’t do it again.” Barnes straightens to his full height. 

“If you call a month straight ‘one time’ then fucking sure.”

“Any time any place Lewis. If you wanted hands-on you could have just asked.”

Darcy’s fist curled in on itself. God help her she was about to swing too, until Steve interrupted them.

“Okay. Bucky goes in.”

Darcy whips back around, “Steve!”

“Back up is just good sense Darce. If something goes wrong…”

“If something goes wrong, you’re compromising two agents instead of one.”

“They screen the staff. You can’t take in your firearm. Any cartel member on premise will be carrying at least one on them. You’ll need someone who can cover you. Someone who can be armed without notice.”

“I’ll have you.” Darcy sounds defeated. She can hear it in her own voice.

“I can’t guarantee I won’t get pulled away.”

Darcy doesn’t hear the conversation beyond that anymore. They’ve made up their minds. She knows because Sam didn’t jump in on her side either. 

Darcy should have taken Steve up on his offer and just stayed in bed today. As she sits back down for what’s sure to be another all-nighter of planning, she decides that this Sunday sucks major balls.


End file.
